Jack is a
, dammit- he’s programed himself to make important financial decisions faster than his new corporate elevator can climb 50 floors,
able to get the advantage in negotiations like they’re playing pin the tail on the donkey and he has his
, and is so unreachable that most lawsuits filed against him are batted down by his wall of lawyers without the news even reaching his
assistant. He really is that good, he’ll say so himself, and has said so plenty of times when people ask and when they don’t. He’s said so tonight even, to Liz Lemon of all people.
“Yeah, Jack. I know,” she says, lip curling into a not-quite-smile like she’s going to tease him. “The sky is blue, water is wet, corduroy is the sexiest fabric. And you’re a good businessman.
These are things we all know.” Her glasses slip down her nose a touch as she levels him with a look. “You looking for gratification or something?”
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